


It Is The Tale and They Who Tell It

by darth_stitch



Series: The Bagginses of Bag End [4]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Bilbo didn't want to be hobbitnapped, Dwobbits, Hades/Persephone Adaptation Fail, Headcannoned the Durins as Dwobbits, Humor, M/M, Mpreg, Reincarnation, Romance, Well MPREG Hints anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darth_stitch/pseuds/darth_stitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many stories of Durin the Deathless, though these are not widely known to anyone who is not of the Khazad.   This is one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Is The Tale and They Who Tell It

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** J.R.R. Tolkien owns this universe and a good piece of my soul. Richard Armitage, Martin Freeman and Peter Jackson finished the job. 
> 
> Originally posted at [The Blanket Fort - Darth Stitch on Tumblr](http://darthstitch.tumblr.com/post/46547903561/there-are-many-stories-of-durin-the-deathless)

 

[ ](http://darthstitch.tumblr.com/image/46547903561)

There are many stories of Durin the Deathless, though these are not widely known to anyone who is not of the _Khazad._  
  
But then the _Khazad_ or the Dwarves, as most of us know them, have always kept their secrets and it is a fortunate soul indeed who would be honored by being told one of their tales.   And these tales are, of course, as every bit as interesting and filled with romance, derring-do, great deeds and acts of valor as Elven epics.  With, of course, a great deal of good Dwarvish Common Sense into the bargain.  
  
This story of Durin the Deathless is not one often told outside of family.  You might know this story already, in what would probably be a darker and very uncomfortable form.  It’s been told and retold and consequently  distorted all out of proportion as a result.  So the story you might know would involve a Lord of the Dead and a Lady of Springtime and how she was whisked away by the said Dread Lord to be his bride into his dark kingdom.  And there are Elements and Subtext to this version of the story that would be Very Uncomfortable for Very Wise Grown-Ups, Perplex Very Young Children and Give Wiser Children Nightmare Fuel.    
  
(Yes, even then, we had some Storytellers of Fifty Shades of No-Good Horrible and Terrible.)  
  
Things did not quite happen that way.  
  
Listen.

The story goes that Durin, eldest of the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves, was the only one created without a mate.  
  
Mahal, their Maker, had a good reason for that.  Eldest and first to awaken was Durin and so it was that he would be the last to go back to eternal slumber and forever it was his fate to receive and guide back the souls of all of his Dwarrow kin. And so it was that Durin was awakened first and walked alone.  And there are songs that tell of his great deeds in _Khazad-dum_ and the mighty and beautiful things he wrought with hammer and anvil, songs that even the Elves would sing, despite later strife between the races.    
  
But of Durin’s other duty, Lord and Guide of the Dwarrow-dead - ah, these were songs that were sung only by the _Khazad_ and the _Khazad_ alone. 

Though Mahal’s Children were blessed with long life, they were not immortal and Death would still come to claim Her due in the end.  And while Durin performed his duties honorably, showing compassion and care, it was, by necessity and nature, a lonely task and even the stoutest Dwarven heart would be weighed down with sorrow and grief.

And so it was that Durin left _Khazad-dum,_ and wandered for a time in Middle-earth, letting the Road take him where it willed.

Of course, it must be said here that Dwarves have an _excellent_ sense of direction and generally know which way to go.  That is, of course, if you happen to put a Dwarf _in_ a mountain.   _Outside_ of a mountain is an entirely different story, though it would be best for your health and also good manners not to point that out to a Dwarf.  

Durin, of course, was no exception to this rule and perhaps it may account for what had happened next.   
  
Durin found himself in a beautiful, green place of gently rolling hills and welcoming trees, with soft grass under his boots instead of stone, flowers running riot all over, instead of gold and gems, and lit by sunlight instead of the clever lighting created by the Dwarves to light their halls in the deep dark of their mountain realms. 

The Dwarf Lord felt his heavy heart oddly lightened by the sight, though he was no Elf to be talking to trees and plants.  And he wandered here for a while, enjoying the sights and wondering how he might bring home some of this beauty to his own Great Realm, to share with his kith and kin, when his attention was caught by a startled cry.

“Oh!  Confound it!” 

Durin hurried towards the sound and that was when he met the oddest creature.   
  
This person, for person it surely was, was unlike any being Durin had ever seen before.  He was small, his curly head barely brushing Durin’s chin and there was a surprising quantity of that same curly hair on the front of his large bare feet.  His ears were pointed, like an Elf’s and he was rather comely to look at.  And despite the fact that he looked like almost like a dwarfling with his clean, beardless face - he was, of course, no child at all and the eyes that met Durin were bright and fearless.   
  
He was also in a great deal of pain. 

“Confound it and botheration.  This was most certainly _not_ what I had in mind when I thought to go on an adventure today!” said the Little Person, huffing in irritation.

“I’m afraid getting hurt really is one of the hazards of adventuring, elfling,” Durin pointed out mildly, taking note of the fact that the Little Person had twisted his ankle and of course, taking a guess as to what race he belonged to. 

“Hobbit.  I happen to be a hobbit, if you please, Master Dwarf, not an Elf, though I do have Fairy Blood, long story, very interesting, which I would be willing to tell, if only I could get some help here as I’m afraid I’m in a great deal of pain and can’t walk — “

“Hush,” Durin told him, having already knelt down to bind the injured foot as best he could.  “You can tell me all the stories you’d like once we’re home.”  And without further ado, he gently picked up the Hobbit and it was when he realized that said Hobbit felt oddly _right_ in his arms that Durin was suddenly, terribly aware that he was in a Great Deal of Trouble. 

Also, when he said that they were going home, Durin actually meant taking the Hobbit back to his kingdom, _Khazad-dum_.   
  
A digression.  Some tellers of the story claim that Durin actually _meant_ to take the Hobbit back to _his_ own home and while the Hobbit gave clear and explicit directions, Durin  _still_ managed to get themselves thoroughly  lost and sidetracked and ended up back in the Dwarf Lord’s realm instead.  This amazing lack of a basic sense of direction endures in Durin’s descendants, no matter how majestic they are, to this very day.  

And some tellers of the tale will get all huffy and maintain that Durin effectively absconded with the Hobbit, having realized that this was his One, the mate that he had been denied and missed since his eyes were opened by Mahal Himself.  Certainly, the Hobbit agreed.

“Have I just been abducted and made prisoner?” The Hobbit demanded. 

“You are a guest, not a prisoner,” Durin answered.  “An honored and treasured guest, I would say.”

“I note that you didn’t _quite_ answer the question of abduction,” the Hobbit said dryly. 

Durin had the grace to blush even as he blustered, “Your directions were quite confusing! No Dwarf would - ”  
  
“Either Dwarves have the worst sense of direction in the entirety of Middle-earth, in which case, I’d have strong words with your Creator, if I were you or I’ve been hobbitnapped!  Honestly!”  The Hobbit flailed and if Durin thought the fellow rather _adorable_ in his pique, he very carefully kept it to himself.   
  
“You are an honored guest and I would be happy to send you home, as soon as your injury heals but - ” And here Durin thought, belatedly, that nothing but honesty would be best at this point. “I would hope that you could stay.  With me, that is.  Please.”  
  
And at that point, the Hobbit looked at him very carefully and Durin tried not to squirm at the scrutiny in those dark blue eyes - the color of the darkest sapphire gemstones that he had recently found in the mines of _Khazad-dum._ Of course, comparing the Hobbit’s beautiful eyes to gemstones was the clearest indicator that Durin was now past Serious Trouble and practically beyond saving.   
  
And at length, the Hobbit sighed and said, “If you wish to court me, I suggest you do this Properly.  Hobbitnapping?  Not good at all.  Very not good.”   
  
“I am sorry.”  
  
“You are not.”  
  
Durin sighed.  “Then I am sorry for frightening you.  I swear to you that I will not harm you nor do anything else to you that is against your will but know that you are my One and we Dwarves love but once.  I will court you and hope most fervently that I win your heart in turn.”  
  
“And if in the end, I still refuse?  What then?” The Hobbit asked.  
  
Durin smiled sadly.  “We Dwarves love but once, little one.  And I will bear my love for you through all my remaining days.  But you will be back home, with your people, safe and sound and I will take nothing from you that you do not wish to give with a free and open heart.”  
  
“My,” the Hobbit smiled back.  “If this is to be a Proper Courting, then you have begun most excellently, my lord Dwarf.”   
  
And so this Very Proper Courting began.   
  
The Dwarves under Durin’s rule were quite delighted that their Lord had found his One at last, though it must be admitted that there _were_ some Dwarves grumbling that his prospective Consort happened to be of a different race.  Of course, these complaints rather died down when faced with the wrath of their Lord and his Companions, who were all rather protective of their Hobbit.   
  
In any case, Durin began his courting in a proper Dwarven manner, by presenting his beloved with the most beautiful and rarest jewels that he could find, the better to adorn his honey-colored hair and to bring out the color of his eyes.  And he used his considerable skills to craft them as beads for those bright curls, as necklaces and bracelets and circlets.  
  
And while the Hobbit was suitably impressed with the riches that Durin could offer him, these did not move his heart at all.  For Hobbits have no use for cold stone, no matter how beautiful they happen to be.  And while the Hobbit knew the value of the objects, he could only appreciate the workmanship and skill that Durin brought in the making of these treasures.   
  
At this point, some tellers of this tale might find themselves quite piqued at Hobbits for their stubborn natures.   
  
And some tellers of this tale might find themselves quite piqued at Dwarves for being very infuriatingly obtuse.   
  
And some listeners might laugh amongst themselves because this is all Quite Amusingly Familiar.   
  
Now Hobbits do not receive presents without giving something in turn and so the Hobbit, hobbling carefully on his injured foot, found the kitchens and to the bemusement of the Dwarven cooks, set about preparing a proper Hobbit meal for his suitor.  To list all of the dishes prepared would take a good long while and would most likely make the listeners to this tale very hungry indeed.  Suffice it to say that aside from the obvious meats that Dwarves enjoyed, there were vegetables as well, prepared in such a way that even Durin, who like most of his kind, were not overly fond of green food, found himself tucking in with a will.  
  
And it was over dinner that both Hobbit and Dwarf learned a great deal about each other.  For while Dwarves see the beauty within the hearts of their mountain halls and beneath the surface of the earth, Hobbits valued the things that grew above it and the light of sun and moon.  And though they were quite different in some respects, they found pleasing similarities as well.    
  
And so it was that Durin found a better courting gift for his beloved Hobbit.  In the upper reaches of his halls, he and his Companions built a place where the Hobbit might have a garden of his own, where he, if he wished to stay, could have a place that would remind him of his home.  It was fashioned in such a way that the Hobbit would have sunlight and the clean cool winds.  For Durin was beginning to understand that it would not be right to keep his beloved here, deep below the ground and though his very nature cried out to keep him forever, Durin knew that this was wrong. 

He had sworn to the Hobbit that he would take nothing from him that was not given with a free and open heart.  And well Durin knew that he could not force love into being, only coax and persuade, with patience, honor, respect and hope.   
  
“I still do not understand why you value these flowers far above the jewels I have made for you,” Durin remarked to the Hobbit, though his tone was fond and simply pleaded for help in understanding.  “These flowers will wither and die in winter and stone endures, whatever the season.”  
  
“These flowers are alive and they will always return in springtime,” answered the Hobbit.  “The fact that their lives are so brief makes them as precious as your jewels and gold, if not more so.”  
  
And it was here that Durin realized something, which he had not considered before.  “Are you Hobbits immortal, like the Elves?”   
  
The Hobbit shook his head and gave him a gentle smile.  “We live but a little past a hundred years, as our Lady and Creator permits it.  But we do not fear death - for we believe all things have their time and their season.”  
  
At that, Durin’s heart went cold with dread and he found himself shedding tears.  For though he was also Lord and Guide to the Dwarrow-dead, he knew not the final fate of Hobbit-kind and it grieved him to know that whatever time he might have with his beloved Hobbit would still be brief and that even beyond death, there might not be a way to be together.   
  
Gentle hands brushed away at his tears.  “Tears do not suit you, my lord Dwarf.  I’d rather you smile, for you do so beautifully and I confess I rather like seeing it on you more.”  
  
“If I could, if you would permit it, I wish to keep you safe and with me always, forever - forgive me, I promised you that I would not force you against your will.”    
  
“You cannot keep me, for I am not a possession but I might wish to stay with you, for however long fate grants us,”  The Hobbit gently drew Durin down and brushed a shy kiss against his lips.  “I think I will stay.  But I must be asked.  Properly.”   
  
Durin smiled.   
  
The Hobbit wagged his finger at him.  “Now, now - none of that.  You must ask!”  
  
“Stay with me.  Please?”  And at that he took the Hobbit’s hands in his own and brushed a gentle kiss over his knuckles, stained with grass and earth as they were.   
  
The Hobbit blushed.  “I will.”  But of course, he had a great deal more to add.  “And perhaps I might have some things to say about this whole love beyond death business.  There’s no reason why your Mahal might mind the presence of a Hobbit when he asks you to gather the Dwarves Home.  And if not, my Lady will have a great deal to say about that — “

And at that, Durin found himself laughing and kissed his Hobbit in turn.  Oddly enough, he could believe that his intrepid, adventurous beloved might well find a way.    
  
So it was that their courting eventually led to a wedding and a great celebration that the Dwarves would speak of with great reverence for the generations to come.   And perhaps it might be due to the stubborn nature of Hobbits, but Durin’s Beloved lived to a great age for Hobbit-kind.  And in those years together, however brief it was for Dwarves, there was a great joy and happiness. 

Durin kept to his promise.  Rather than taking, he asked nothing from his beloved Hobbit that would not be given freely.  And his Hobbit willingly gave his heart and of course, there were Certain Gifts that a Hobbit with Fairy Blood had as well.  Suffice it to say that there is a Very Good Reason why the scions of Durin’s Line grew their beards late, Kings of the Longbeards as they happen to be.   
  
Some tellers of this tale will say that when he passed his mortal life, a Certain Hobbit went and pleaded with his Lady and his Lady, compassionate being that She happened to be, spoke with _H_ _er_ Spouse and being as Mahal was a wise husband and that He _was_ still in Serious Trouble with Her regarding His Own Beloved Children, He did not raise any objections.  Thus it was that Mahal and Yavanna granted Their Children this great gift.   
  
Durin himself lived to a great age and those lonely years without his Hobbit were eased by the presence of their children.  And it is said that Durin was Deathless and oft returned to life for he would seek out his beloved Hobbit again and though his One might not always wear the same form, Durin would always find and recognize his beloved.   
  
Some tellers of this tale would like to apologize to Certain Hobbits for taking a very long while to admit and recognize them for who they really were.  They would also like to apologize for forgetting the lessons that they had learned in previous lives and for valuing a piece of stone, no matter that it was the Arkenstone, above the lives of kith and kin.   
  
Some tellers of this tale would also like to apologize to Certain Dwarves, for while they had meant well, they should have remembered what grievous hurts and dark memories that their beloved carried, especially for this current life.   
  
The Storytellers would like their Gentle Listeners to keep Certain Secrets and Realizations to themselves, for this would cause but no end of trouble indeed.  The more important thing to remember is that at long last, a son of Durin once again sits as King Under the Mountain, Erebor freed from the Dragon Smaug and Mordor overthrown at last.     
  
And that it is oddly fitting that a Hobbit was among the King's Chosen Companions on his Quest to retake the Lonely Mountain, not to mention the even Greater Quest that came about later.  And if said Hobbit may be said to be as wise, stubborn and as clever as Durin’s Beloved, then it is a happy coincidence, nothing more.   
  
Some tellers of this tale would like to point out that Certain Dwarves are far too good at flattery.   
  
Some tellers of this tale would like to point out that Certain Hobbits are far too suspicious and should not doubt what is simply the Plain Truth. 

And if the current King Under the Mountain _finally_ found both wit and wisdom to beg his Hobbit’s forgiveness and ask him to be his Consort, then the sensible thing to do would be to celebrate with a wedding feast.  (It was only fair, considering the Shire already witnessed and hosted the earlier wedding and King and Consort honestly did not mind renewing their vows, if only to make the rest of their family happy.)    
  
Of course kissing his future Consort was another sensible action, never mind lewder suggestions from Certain Companions, who really ought to know better than to meddle in the romantic lives of others.   
  
And the end?  Why the obvious one of course - they all lived happily ever after, King, Consort, Nephews and Companions, to the end of their days.   
  
 _\- end -_

**Author's Note:**

>  **Note:** Three guesses as to who’s REALLY telling this story?
> 
> **Note the Second:** I was inspired by this [Gorgeous Richard Armitage Pic](http://darthstitch.tumblr.com/post/46145156547/yerkillingmesmalls-hades-god-of-the-dead)  
>  by yerkillingmesmalls.  The picture above is me messing around with a graphics program and I rather like the result. 
> 
> **Note the Third:** This happened because my Bilbo Muse looked at me and said LOLNOPE I’M NOT GOING TO JUST STAND HERE AND BE HOBBITNAPPED.  And my Thorin Muse can’t say no to Bilbo either.  So…. instead of a Hades/Persephone kind of deal, THIS happened.  Heh.  Sorry, Roane?
> 
> **A NEW Note the Fourth:** I decided to add this fic, which was floating around in the ether, to the Bagginses of Bag End Series. This is a very strong headcanon for even my other Bagginshield series as well. As for the "King Under the Mountain" - well, let us imagine that this story is being told in the future by our favorite King and Consort, who won't be able to escape their Destiny forever in the Shire. (And yes, I think our boys wouldn't really mind getting married again, if only because the Erebor Contingent enjoys a party just as much as the folks in the Shire!)
> 
> Tagged: [bagginshield](http://darthstitch.tumblr.com/tagged/bagginshield), [Thorin Oakenshield](http://darthstitch.tumblr.com/tagged/Thorin-Oakenshield), [bilbo baggins](http://darthstitch.tumblr.com/tagged/bilbo-baggins), [Durin the Deathless](http://darthstitch.tumblr.com/tagged/Durin-the-Deathless), [mpreg](http://darthstitch.tumblr.com/tagged/mpreg), [i am being overrun by my Muses](http://darthstitch.tumblr.com/tagged/i-am-being-overrun-by-my-Muses), [hades/persephone fail](http://darthstitch.tumblr.com/tagged/hades%2Fpersephone-fail), [bilbo will not stand for being hobbitnapped](http://darthstitch.tumblr.com/tagged/bilbo-will-not-stand-for-being-hobbitnapped), [roane72](http://darthstitch.tumblr.com/tagged/roane72), [i can't blame roane for this can i](http://darthstitch.tumblr.com/tagged/i-can%27t-blame-roane-for-this-can-i), .


End file.
